


Silver Linings, Shrouded in Mystery

by distantsun



Series: keep this going til judgment day [3]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Banter, Comedy, F/M, Fluff, In-Universe Nerdiness, Silver Shroud - Freeform, Superhero Roleplay, everyone's a critic, in which Nick is grumpy about cosplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2016-01-12
Packaged: 2018-05-13 11:54:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5706766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distantsun/pseuds/distantsun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick's had just about enough of the Silver goddamned Shroud for two lifetimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Linings, Shrouded in Mystery

He’d done a near-heroic job, he thought, of keeping his mouth shut so far. He didn’t like to be the one to rain on anyone’s parade, and that sweet, earnest ghoul kid especially didn’t deserve it. So he’d traipsed all the way out to this feral-infested wreck of a studio with Claire, and gallantly shielded her when a Glowing One spewed radioactive slime all over them ( _those_ stains wouldn’t be coming out of his coat anytime soon), and even nodded politely when she excitedly showed him some bit of memorabilia or another that she could bring back to Kent.

But when his partner spun around in that damned outfit, grey scarf wrapped snugly around her neck and hat tipped rakishly atop her dark waves of hair… well, he tried, he really did. But what he meant as a noncommittal but encouraging “mmm” came out as a grumpy, disapproving “hrmph,” and oh, he was in for it now.

Claire arched an eyebrow at him. “You don’t like it? Or are you just afraid I’ll challenge you for the title of best-dressed detective in the wastes?”

“Not much chance of that, kid,” he shot back dryly. “Hate to break it to you like this, but the ghoul blood and motor oil look is really in this season.”

She grinned. “Really, Nick, what gives? I thought you’d be all over this. Playing dress-up, fighting crime. _Face my terrible justice!”_

Her fake-deep voice and screwed-up little face were nearly adorable enough, he thought, to change his mind. Nearly. _Someone_ had to maintain basic standards of taste out here in the Commonwealth, though.

He flicked glowing ash off the end of his cigarette, and ground it into the floor with the toe of his shoe. “I never… ah. Never _cared_ for the Silver Shroud. If I’m being honest.”

He stole a look up at her face, expecting a frown, but instead she just looked mildly surprised. “Huh,” she said. “Guess I assumed since you love all that mystery stuff– I mean, when we went scouting at the library and found those undamaged detective novels, you made some _really_ alarming noises and I thought you were overheating–”

“There was a _first edition Chandler,”_ he muttered, “and it was _warm in there–”_

“–but, hm.” She shrugged. “Well, okay. To each his own.”

She seemed content to leave it at that, gathering their haul and preparing to leave. He lasted about two minutes before bursting forth with “I mean, did the police always have to be _completely_ incompetent in every story? Can you think of a single cop character who wasn’t bumbling, idiotic, crooked, or all of the above?”

Claire turned to look at him, calmly, with eyebrows raised.

“And the _writing.”_ There was no stopping him now, evidently. “The Silver Shroud didn’t solve mysteries, he stumbled over the solutions! Never did any actual detective work. All he ever did was show up and say something alliterative and dramatic.”

Claire waited until he seemed to be finished. “Do you feel better now?” she said dryly.

He supposed he had been waiting over 200 years to get that particular complaint off his chest. “Sorry, doll. I’ll keep it to myself. Kent’s a good kid, and his heart’s in the right place. If not his _taste.”_

She laughed. “Well, I hope you don’t mind, but I’m keeping the costume. I like it. Feels right.” Her eyes narrowed. “Feels like _justice.”_

“Lord help us all,” Nick muttered.

–-

Nick Valentine was a patient man. You had to be, in his line of work.

The moment he heard Claire yell “Halt, evildoer!” at a damned _Radscorpion,_ however, was the moment he realized his patience had limits.

“I’m going to set that damned costume on fire,” he growled, stomping past her, and it might have come off as an empty threat if he hadn’t actually been carrying a flamethrower at the time.

“You’d prefer me in the Grognak costume, I suppose?” she called after him. He turned, and thought about it, and _pictured_ it, and was trying to determine how a gentleman ought to answer that question when she grinned and tossed a tato at him. The tato bounced off his arm. “You’re not that lucky, Valentine.”

_Patience,_ he thought.

“Forward! For justice!”

Eyes narrowing, he hoisted the flamethrower a little higher.

–-

“Come on.” Claire smiled up at him, running a hand along his arm. “You could be my Mister Mystery.”

“No.”

“The Deceptive Synth Detective.”

_“No.”_

“The Dark Clockwork Dick,” Deacon supplied helpfully, poking his head around the corner.

_“Absolutely_ not,” Nick said, “and your _ancestors_ weren’t even alive when this junk first aired, so kindly buzz off.”

Deacon made a face and disappeared back around the corner.

_“Some_ of his ancestors were alive,” Claire pointed out quietly.

Nick rolled his eyes.

–-

He wasn’t sure if it was Claire or one of the others who kept leaving relatively undamaged pages from the Silver Shroud comics on his desk– word had traveled, of course, so it could have been anyone.

For some reason, he kept them. The writing was still terrible, the cops were still caricatures, but he had to admit that the world was different now. The idea of one man doing what he could to fight corruption and evil in a lawless world, accompanied by his beautiful and intelligent companion, held a certain… appeal, nowadays.

Besides, that costume was certainly stylish.

–-

_“Fools, all of you! Attack, my robot children. Destroy these interlopers!”_

_“The robots, they’re advancing! And our weapons have been confiscated. So, fisticuffs it is then!”_

_“And furiously fluid footwork!"_

“Nick?” The agency’s door creaked open, and Claire poked her head in, and he hastily switched off the radio but it was too late. A sly grin spread over her face. “You were just… oh, I _knew_ it, I knew we’d get you eventually.”

“Yeah, well,” he grumbled, picking up a dog-eared copy of _The Maltese Falcon_ from his desk and doing his best to look cultured and disapproving. “I figured if you’re gonna insist on running around dressed like that, I’d better at least bone up on the source material.”

“And?”

Nick sniffed, and shot a sidelong glance at the pile of comics pages stacked neatly on the corner of his desk. “I _suppose,”_ he said grudgingly, “it’s not as bad as I remembered.”

Claire beamed, and opened her mouth to speak.

“I could do without the anti-robot propaganda, though,” he said, straight-faced.

“The _what–”_

“Must mechanical men _always_ be the villains?” Nick said, just a little dramatically, putting a hand over where his heart would be. “In this age of synth hysteria, it’s downright _irresponsible_ to be spreading this kind of misinformation.” He managed to keep from cracking up until halfway through the last few words. “I wonder how your friends in the _Railroad_ would feel about–”

“Nicholas Valentine,” she said, eyes flashing as she stalked over to his desk. “You are _insufferable.”_ But she couldn’t keep a straight face, either.

“Insufferable indeed,” he murmured, taking hold of her grey scarf and pulling her in close. “Will no intrepid investigator intervene?”

She smirked at him, leaned in closer. “Did I ever show you what I wear _under_ this coat?” she whispered.

“A mystery worth uncovering,” he said against her lips.

_Tune in next week for another exciting episode!_

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a post I saw that noted that if you take Nick to the Hubris Comics building before talking to Kent Connolly, he makes a bunch of snarky comments about how bad the Silver Shroud show was. Since Claire hasn't taken off the Shroud armor since she got it, I couldn't resist writing an amusing little side-story. (at least, I hope it was amusing.)


End file.
